


Where The Heart Goes

by Neriede



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Because if I'm being honest this is mostly just me doing whatever the fuck I want, F/M, Gen, I think????, M/M, Other characters show up later I'll tag them when we get there, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-04-25 11:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14377599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neriede/pseuds/Neriede
Summary: An exploration of stuff I’ve always wanted to see in the games, such as: the implications of Sora growing up with Ventus’ face; Riku has some interesting co-workers; and that Good Kairi Content, HONESTLY NOMURA. Eventual Sorikai.





	1. He Looks A Lot Like You

**Author's Note:**

> Whooooaa, we’re finally doing this.  
> Here we go.  
> Okay.

It was supposed to be a momentous occasion. He was the typical figure of a soon-to-be father, pacing back and forth outside the infirmary, slumped over and still clearly unsure about fatherhood. The nurses assured him this was normal—some parents didn’t really step into the role of fatherhood until they actually had the baby in their arms.

“Once you hold him, that’s when it’ll feel real,” they told him.

He was nervous—what if that didn’t happen for him? He wanted very much to be a good husband, and with that came wanting to be a good father for their child, but a small voice in the back of his mind kept whispering awful things to him—

_You’re not father material._

_You have no idea what you’re doing._

_He’ll_ _**hate** _ _you._

The nurses all told him that this was normal too, but that did nothing to quell his fears. He just wanted the day to be over already. A sense of apprehension—whether it was from dread or excitement, he didn’t know—washed over him as one of the nurses opened the door and said two words; just two words, but they were the two most affecting words he’d ever heard in his life.

“He’s here.”

The last time two simple words had gripped him so hard was the day his wife had said, “I do.”

But then he saw the image of his wife, bathed in the light of the setting sun and radiating a glow that her newly attained motherhood afforded her, cradling their son against her breast. He stood at her side, reverent.

“Can I hold him?” he whispered.

This was it, the moment of truth. His wife nodded, smiling softly, and leaned over to provide her husband easy access. She guided his hands to the right places, told him gently to relax when she noticed how nervousness stiffened his movements. He was small, tiny enough to cradle against just one of his arms, and with a rush of relief, it hit him—this was his _son_. A living, breathing being, made up of himself and the person he loved, a mix of their blood and sinew and love.

In that moment, there was nothing he felt more than the feeling of being a father. Balancing him against his chest with one arm, he touched a finger to one of the tiny hands, something indescribable flowing through him as it was barely enclosed by unbelievably small digits. For the first time, he saw his son’s eyes flutter slowly open.

Instantly, a cold sensation swept through his entire body.

“…his eyes are blue.”

The voice of his wife floated from her nest of pillows, exhausted, but clearly enthusiastic, “I know. They’re _beautiful_.”

A spark of panic flashed through him. Surely…this was a mistake?

“But we both have _brown_ eyes.”

The nurse, patting a wet towel to his wife’s forehead, offered an explanation, “That happens sometimes. It’s a recessive trait—you two must have blue eyes somewhere in your family tree.”

“Oh,” he said simply, feeling a bit ashamed that he’d ever let suspicion into his heart.

‘ _Of_ _ **course**_ _there’s an explanation’_ , he thought, _‘after all, she’s_ _ **your**_ _wife.’_

He wasn’t the smartest man, he admitted. He’d never really paid that much attention in school, and lord only knew how his wife still loved someone as ordinary as himself. Right now though, that didn’t matter—all he cared about was his son.

After this moment of reflection, he added, “Well, you learn something new every day.”

He took all his feelings of hesitancy, every lingering notion of doubt in his mind, and squashed them. He tried to recapture the bliss of holding his newborn son, gave his best efforts to remember how he had felt just moments prior.

And, for the moment, it worked.

-

They named him Sora, for his eyes.

“Blue as the skies,” his wife had noted fondly.

The first few weeks had undoubtedly been interesting. Being a parent was nothing at all like he imagined—it was sleepless and exhausting, both physically and mentally. Income was tight, since there was just so much _expense_ to taking care of a baby, and he was having to come home an hour early every night to help with things around the house. They certainly couldn’t afford a sitter.

After his momentary lapse at the hospital, he tried very hard to connect with his son. He was always worried he was doing something wrong, like holding the bottle at the wrong angle, or patting him too hard on the back.

“…I don’t think he likes me.”

“You don’t know that, dear.”

“He’s always spitting up on me, and he cries when I hold him.”

“He’s a _baby_. They all do that.”

“All babies cry when their fathers hold them?”

“Give him some time to get used to you. He’ll recognize you after a week, I promise.”

He had nothing to say to this. To be honest, he was jealous. He had sort of expected his wife to be good at this—she always did have that sort of motherly quality about her—but it seemed as if _nothing_ ever fazed her. Their son would be crying and she’d somehow just _know_ what he needed, would set him against her bosom and that would be enough, like fitting a two piece puzzle together, mother and son, so _perfect_ and _easy_ , and just where did that leave _him_?

And of course, as with everything, she was right about Sora. It wasn’t _even_ a week before his son was gurgling at the mere sight of him. In fact, it was increasingly becoming clear that Sora was a very affectionate child.

When he was strong enough to hold his own head up, Sora’s father took to sitting him on his knee and gently bouncing him. By this time he had largely shied away from most of the caretaking duties, finding himself awkward at them, and instead left them to his wife. But sometimes she would need both her hands, and when he found himself alone with his son while she went off for a minute or so, he would—for lack of knowing what else to do—bounce him.

Sora would never fail to give him the most mirthful smile, look at him with the bluest and most honest of eyes, and when he did he felt as if his son, this _child_ , could see right through him and his insecurities, and he would ask himself, _why does this have to be so hard_?

He looked harder and tried to find even the slightest sliver of himself in the brightness that was his son.

And kept looking.


	2. Must Be Hard, Stuck In One Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smol Riku, big dreams.

Riku’s mom was the sort of person who believed every child needed a best friend—a best friend whose mom was also coincidentally your best friend. It was just so much easier to arrange playdates, and you definitely knew what sort of upbringing they came from. Who knew what those other children were _up to_ , after all.

“Oh, he’s got lots of friends. He’s very popular, very charming my boy is,” she’d say to all the other parents on the island, her wrists nested in to her sleeves all prim and proper, the clear apple of her own eye, “But he and Sora are just inseparable! Just like his mother and I at that age.”

Wasn’t that just so _nice_?

Riku thought Sora was okay.

Riku was only three—most things were okay.

Sora was all smiles and he shared his snacks with him. For a two-year old, Riku liked him enough. He was beginning to think he liked him more than Sora’s _dad_ did, anyway.

“A year’s a big difference at that age, but Sora’ll catch up in no time, I’m sure,” his mom nodded sagely, chin bobbing like a ship on a gentle wave, “Especially with my Riku. My boy’s very observant—he’ll look after him, for sure.”

Incidentialy enough, she said this as if she expected the words to just sail over Riku’s head unnoticed.Riku blinked and said nothing, just stared at the raisins Sora had just gifted on to his lap with a giggle, grin all toothy. Why did adults do that, talk about you as if you weren’t there?

“Sora’s coming along just fine,” Sora’s mom sipped her tea quietly, and Riku thought she looked like a flower, all folded in on itself, the way she tucked her ankles and elbows and everything in.

“He’s very lively. Don’t know where he gets all that energy from, really,” she continued, chuckling good-naturedly.

“He takes after you, clearly,” Riku’s mother’s laugh was more generous, large enough to fill the whole room.

It made Sora’s father shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“He’s got, ah,” and here there was a pause that, unbeknownst to him, did not go unabsorbed by either of the children in the room, “your hair.”

If Riku had the words to express what he thought about this, he might’ve said that that sentence did not actually end where it had stopped—that the words that had been left unsaid spoke volumes more than those that had.

But Riku was only three, and so he settled for thinking that Sora’s dad was kind of Weird.

He felt a little tug on his sleeve.

Sora gave him that same wide smile and pointed enthusiastically at the raisins Riku had yet to formally accept. Silently, he picked one up and popped it in his mouth, which made Sora happy enough to start clapping mirthfully. Then he did what he always did after sharing his snacks, which was to grab Riku’s hand in his and start stuffing his face with the food he’d kept for himself.

Riku’s mom had been right about one thing—he did certainly have a lot of friends, if you counted people at preschool who you happened to share a room with for a significant part of the day as friends. Or the people on the junior swim team. Or the ones from piano lessons.

In fact, most of his life thus far had been an exercise in letting himself be shuffled around to the next location, to the next set of people, to the next bunch of things that adults wanted him to do. Surely there had to be more out of being three than being stuck in one place? Maybe four would hold better promises—he vaguely remembered his mother saying something about taking him to the play island when he was bigger.

He would often see that island in the distance as they passed by it. All the older kids got to go and play on it, but he had yet to set foot on it, because Riku’s mom was scared of him going too deep in to the foliage and hurting himself. He was fascinated by it. He imagined all sorts of hidden things to explore, thought about running down the endless beaches without anyone to hold him back. He pictured himself climbing to the highest cliff and proclaiming to the world at large that it was his for the taking.

Something bubbled up inside him, an itch that welled up and filled what very little being he possessed, and he came to the conclusion that he wanted all these things and more—he wanted _everything_. The world beyond these four walls, the ability to go and say and do whatever, wherever he wanted, the sun and the salt of the sea in his grasp, all of it.

And, he reflected after a moment or two, maybe someone to share it with. If he was going to have everything, it made sense that good company be one of those things.

But who to share it with? He thought about all the other kids in preschool—sure they were all willing to play with him, but that didn’t count for much when you were all stuck together in the same place every day. They only shared their toys with him because the adults told them to. Then, with a lapful of raisins, he thought about the one person who had ever shared anything with him without any reservation or prompting.

Finally, he thought about all the decisions his parents had ever made for him.

He squeezed Sora’s hand and thought, _No. This one is_ _ **mine**_.


	3. One Day When You're In Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things are lost and found.

Kairi loved books. If asked to name her most favorite thing in the world, she would’ve whole-heartedly and without another thought said it was her grandma, but, well, books came as a _pretty_ close second. Which was why it was always the best day ever whenever grandma took her to the castle’s public library.

“Tell me that story again,” she said, for what may literally have been the thousandth time.

And for the thousandth time, Kairi’s grandmother tirelessly obliged her, “Long ago, people lived in peace, bathed in the warmth of light. Everyone loved the light. Then, people began to fight over it. They wanted to keep it for themselves. And darkness was born in their hearts.”

“Because they loved the light too much…,” Kairi gripped the edges of her seat, anchoring herself as she swung her legs back and forth.

Her grandma nodded wisely, pausing to let the gears that were so obviously working in her little granddaughter’s head turn to their conclusion.

“…Is it bad to want things?” Kairi said quietly, legs slowing to a slight sway.

“Only if you want them to the point of selfishness.”

This was why Kairi loved her grandma so much—she let her ask all the Hard Questions.

“I love you a lot, and I’d be really sad if someone took you away. Maybe even enough to get really angry,” and then after a thought, she added, “Is that selfish?”

“You must never apologize for how you feel Kairi. All emotions exist for a reason. Love and obsession, anger and rage, sadness and despair—they are all sides of the same coin of darkness and light.”

“I don’t get it. Which ones are bad?”

The old woman shook her head, “Child, there will indeed come a time when I can no longer walk beside you. If you love me, you will let me go in peace. Let your sadness for me remind you of the good times we had—that’s how you’ll know they were real—but do not let it drive you to despair. And if you are angry, let that anger sharpen your sense of justice, but do not let it consume you like a fire. If you can do that, then you need never fear the darkness ever taking over your heart. Understand?”

It was a lot for a four-year-old to take in, but Kairi thought she understood it well enough. Most of it, anyway. Grandma had a way of saying things so that she understood them.

“I’m going to put this back and get a new one,” she said suddenly with much ceremony, pulling the book on the table towards her.

She ran out towards the shelves, hugging the book—which was about the size of her torso—close to her with the whole of both arms. She made her way over to the children’s section, and almost yelped as she turned the corner in to an alleyway of towering bookcases. She’d barely avoided running in to whoever it was that had been standing just far enough from the mouth of the alley to remain unseen, until she’d just about smashed in to him. She had stopped just in time, but not before startling the poor boy in to dropping all his books on the floor.

“I’m sorry!” she huffed out, hefting her tome higher up, “I didn’t see you there!”

He didn’t answer, but he did watch her very carefully as he slowly bent down to pick up his books, never once taking his eyes off her—or at least, the one eye it seemed. Most of his face was obscured behind a curtain of messy, gray-blue hair.

“My name’s Kairi! What’s yours?”

She felt like she had seen him before, just around in general as merely another part of the castle, like how the books were a part of the shelves. He certainly gave a similar sort of impression as that of the books, quiet, unassuming, a mystery on the verge of swallowing you up. When he denied her an answer yet again, she glanced at the title of the nearest cover in his arms.

“…Hafet? What’s that mean?”

She wasn’t sure she was pronouncing it correctly. If she wasn’t, the boy didn’t correct her, just looked down at the bundle in his arms, as if considering something. She was beginning to wonder if he was mute. Then, ever so slightly, he leaned forward and extended his arms out a bit, adjusting the angle of his hold. Kairi blinked and shifted _The Little Princess_ against one arm. Did he mean for her to take it? She reached out and tentatively slid the volume out from the rest of its companions.

Realizing she couldn’t open it with just one free hand, she asked, “What’s it about?”

He gave the slightest roll of the head, gesturing at the bookshelf beside them. There was a decent sized gap two shelves above their heads, just about the right size for Hafet. Oh! Did he perhaps want her to help put his books away? She liked being helpful. Standing on the very tip-top of her toes, she reached up and balanced the bottom of the book against the edge of the shelf. She gave it a little shove and—before it could tip back down and fall out—jumped up and pushed it all the way in.

Instantly there was a slight whirring sound, and Kairi gasped as the bookcase swung backwards to reveal a dark corridor. A rush of foreboding came over her. The passageway tunneled off and bled into darkness, giving off the sense that it led somewhere small children had no business being. The boy ran straight in to it.

“Wait!”

She took off after him. She held her breathe as the sieve of darkness passed over her, slowed down when it faded back behind her and she was on the other side. It was still dark, but at least she could discern the general shape of things, of which there didn’t seem to be very many. She stopped to gain her bearings.

The library was a musty place, but in that quiet way that was comforting. The books softened the silence and steeped it in ancient history, bleeding out from some of the more yellowed tomes. From the outside the castle looked just as saturated in history, but grand and in no way quiet. It was the sort of building that seemed to literally be supported by an aura of legacy, long stairs and high spires that kept your neck craned ever upwards in awe.

This was something else entirely.

There was barely any floor. In fact, the majority of the room consisted of a hole with a very long drop that made Kairi extremely glad she had slowed down before stopping. A gondola lift with an unsettling lack of any teeter hung just at the edge of the ledge in front of her. There was history here too, she felt, something old and unnerving and not meant to be remembered.

Her spine backed up against a sudden chill, prickling all throughout her shoulders as if they’d touched something solid. She spun around and came face to waist of a man in a white long coat.

“I don’t believe you’re supposed to be back here.”

“I’m…,” she took a step back, clutching her book tighter, “Kairi.”

The man simply smiled, “My name is Xehanort.”

And that was when she heard the far-off click of the bookcase shutting somewhere behind him.

-

It was scary being alone with your thoughts when there were no memories to keep you company. Still, Kairi sat and let the white surge of hollowness wash over her, again and again, trying to sift through and find any semblance of familiarity.

She came up empty every time.

Kairi felt the onset of tears welling in the corners of her eyes, and with the tiniest of suppressed sniffles she swiped the back of her hand across them. It only served to push around the sand stuck to her skin. The salt and water mixed into a brown smear that reminded her how awful everything was. She was damp and covered in dirt, the sand in her hair made her itch, and she couldn’t seem to remember who any of these people were. Perhaps the most frightening thing of all was that none of them seemed to remember who _she_ was either.

“Are we sure she doesn’t belong to anybody on the island?”

“I checked the records, and there doesn’t appear to be anyone missing a child. Nobody can figure out who she belongs to.”

There were three of them, a spindly woman, a short man doing himself no favors with his constant hunching over, and a quiet man who hadn’t said much since she’d woken up in this room. He was dressed somewhat formally—all three of them were—but his clothes seemed to sit more comfortably upon him than the other two. His sleeves were rolled loosely up to his forearms, and his lack of a proper jacket or blazer left visible a smart, black vest that wrapped against his bulky frame. He was made up of gentle curves, all of them arching outward. He exuded the notion of solid but approachable firmness. Of the three of adults, Kairi was least wary of this one.

After a moment of watching the other two bicker from behind his desk, he said thoughtfully, “Do any of the teachers recognize her?”

“We haven’t asked around the schools. She didn’t seem quite old enough for schooling,” said the woman, in that almost, but not quite, condescending tone that people used when they wanted to mask their oversights as them actually being smart enough to think ahead.

The man, whom Kairi was beginning to think was In Charge in some way, shook his head softly, “Surely _someone_ can identify her?”

The other gentleman replied, patience clearly thin, “Even _the child_ doesn’t know who she is. She hasn’t been at all cooperative and won’t even say where she came from.”

“Kairi.”

All heads swiveled in her direction.

“My name is Kairi. And stop—” she was crying, she realized suddenly, voice growing louder with every hiccup, “Stop talking like I don’t belong anywhere!!”

There was an embarrassed cough, and all the adults were immediately busy with looking very guilty and sorry. Somehow she felt that only one of them really meant it.

The man behind the desk rose up and strode over to her, and without saying another word lifted her straight up off her chair. His arm for a seat, she clung to his shoulders with a sense of terror, not unlike the fear one might have felt upon discovering that a lion had scooped its head under your legs and was now letting you ride it. She wasn’t sure if she felt safe yet, but she did feel very, very protected.

“I know where you belong,” he said, and Kairi had only the courage to blink through her tears at him.

He didn’t even mention how she was getting dirt and sand and water all over his clothes.

“We’re going home.”


	4. The Light Within You Will Lead You To The Light Of Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, children. Being adorable. Before everything gets sad.

It was love at first sight.

That sort of thing was easier when you were children, when youth afforded you the courage and foolishness that made you capable of loving someone before you really knew them. It required a certain combination of recklessness, naivety, and just the right amount of luck. It was very hard for the universe to line up just the right people, at just the right time, in just the right place for such a small miracle.

Sora somehow managed to do it all the time. He fell in love with every person he met.

He instantly loved Kairi: the redness of her hair (soooo red!), the way she giggled after saying hello, her cute hands gripped around the hem of her skirt.

Riku, as with everything, was more reserved. It wasn’t, per say, _love_ at first sight—but right away he knew that he _would_ love her, if he wasn’t careful. Everybody was talking about her—the girl who came from the sea. She was living, breathing proof that there was more out there than just their tiny, little island; she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. There was something stirring against his rib cage, the beginnings of affection he knew would slowly grow until suddenly, before he could say anything about it, it filled him up completely.

He squeezed Sora’s hand as they introduced themselves. It had happened once before, after all.

Kairi liked both boys immediately. They were the first people she’d met that were around her age.

She liked Sora. Most everyone liked Sora on general principle, but there was something specific about him that she felt drawn to—the first time he held her hand something warm flooded her chest, a feeling like finally coming home.

“She feels like magic, Riku!” Sora chirped.

Apparently he could sense it too.

It was Riku who suggested taking her to the play islands. Standing ankle-deep in salt water, backdropped by the sun-stained horizon, their eyes locked and she saw a suppressed hunger there—this was someone who knew what it felt like to be trapped. A whole town he could’ve shown her, and instead he’d given her a glimpse of the world outside. There was a reason he had chosen—yes, chosen, deliberately—to share this with her. Sora may have felt like home, but Riku felt like something familiar, wanderlust in both their veins.

Sora splashed happily not too far from them, every little _stomp, stomp, stomp_ its own circle of tidal waves, “Did you really come from the sea like everyone says?”

Kairi looked out toward the waves as longing filled her lungs, “I wish I knew.”

-

Destiny Islands was not a particularly… _suspicious_ community. It was, however, a tight, homogenous little group, and when children appeared from seemingly nowhere, people tended to talk. They called her the fire-headed girl, and after a month or so when the freckles started dusting her shoulders they called her sun-spot as well. She didn’t look like any of the other children, and the sun did things to her pale skin that only served to cement the fact that she definitely was not from around here.

“She can’t have actually come from the sea, not _really_ ,” because how much sense did that make, people coming from the sea?

And yet, no one was rushing forward to provide any possible alternatives, because the only alternative to _here_ was the encircling water out _there_. She gave a couple of the warier parents more than a few moments’ pause, but if there was one thing that everyone in their close-knit society agreed upon it was that the mayor commanded only the utmost respect—skepticisms and wagers surrounding the nature of her arrival were fair game, but any doubts cast upon her actual person were quickly met with the stern steel of the mayor’s gaze. He was the sort of person who led by example, who people naturally felt compelled to _follow_ by example, and that extended to the gentleness and affection he showered upon his new-found fostered daughter.

Most people had been very kind, not the least of all two boys in particular.

“Hey Riku,” she started one afternoon as she was braiding threaded cowry shells in to Sora’s hair, “What did your mom mean when she said you guys better watch out when I get older, or I’ll break your hearts?”

“It means she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Kairi frowned, “She doesn’t hate me, does she?”

Sora twisted suddenly, errant string and shells slipping from Kairi’s fingers to bob back and forth as he shook his head furiously, “Noooo! Everyone _loves_ you, Kairi!!”

She giggled, “I know,” and it was true—she really did know, actually believed she was loved.

Sora and her father (and Riku too, in his own subdued way) said as much to her every day, and as far as she was concerned that was as close to “everyone” that really mattered.

He shrugged, “Grownups say weird things sometimes.”

“Everyone on the island’s been so nice to me,” digging her fingers in to the eternal mess of Sora’s hair and pulling gently, prompting him to come back, “I like it here.”

Riku circled the two of them, picking up stray shells that had flown off in Sora’s enthusiasm, “But you still wish you could go back.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Hmmm…” her voice was a sweet hum, genuinely contemplative, “I do want to know where I came from.”

It wasn’t a yes or no.

A breeze pushed the warmth of the beach around them, cotton-soft and reassuring. It almost made her feel like the island was alive, and this was its version of a hug. She could feel it breeding complacency in her bones, which in turn roused a stubborn restlessness in her that made her skin itch for the ocean. She funneled it instead in to re-plaiting Sora’s hair, a gift it seemed determined to refuse. Riku sat down next to her, pressed the shells in to the small of her hand before attending to the other side of Sora’s head, opposite of her.

They sat like that for a moment, untangling the damage that Sora had caused, before Riku said, “When you go, I’m going with you.”

Kairi silently nodded, and that was that—the simple pact of children, no fuss, no muss, and all trust.

It was another moment of quiet shell-braiding before they realized something was wrong. Like the first crack of breaking glass, the smallest of sniffles escaped from the boy between them. Riku and Kairi immediately curved their bodies around to face him, like two mirror images of each other, perfectly in sync.

“Sora…?” their voices blended together in near-identical pitch.

He pressed the heel of his palm to the corner of his eye and swiped, trying to squeeze his eyes shut against the onslaught of tears and failing spectacularly.

“I-I-” he hiccupped through held breaths, as if that might help stop the crying, “I’ll m-miss you guys.”

It was here that the harmony broke, Riku letting out an exasperated groan.

“Stupid,” he shook his head.

“Silly,” Kairi laughed, wrapping her arms around his middle, “You’re coming with us, of course.”

More sniffles. Smaller and smaller ones. Sora smeared his nose across the bridge of his arm, trying to keep his face from getting too messy or gross.

“O-oh,” came the realization, and Sora’s world softened again, “Good.”

He sat up straighter, patted the braids Riku and Kairi had given him, gingerly, but with much affection, and tried not to think about what it might be like to be separated from them.

He wouldn’t think about it again for another ten years.


	5. You Gotta Look Funny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all you can do is leave.

He only ever said it by omission.

It wasn’t really the sort of thing you could say unless you had total conviction you weren’t wrong, and Sora’s father was too much of a coward and a defeatist to ever commit one way or the other.

“I just wish I knew where he got it from,” Sora’s mother ran her fingers through her son’s hair.

At around age three or so it had started parting in odd, unmanageable ways. They had given up on trying to properly tame it long ago.

Her husband’s response was slow and measured, “Perhaps from the same person who gave him his eyes.”

“…That may very well be it.”

The hesitation was minute, only long enough for her to convince herself that his statement was not as ambiguous as she might’ve initially taken it for. Sora took notice of the pause, but it didn’t mean anything to him, in the same way pebbles had no weight when held individually. He was five years old.

When he was ten his father stopped giving him and his friends boat rides out to the play islands. He tried to give Sora the you’re-a-young-man-now speech. He was really bad at it.

“You’re old enough to row out by yourself now. It really…It does seem like time flies, doesn’t it? My father—your grandfather—I mean, you know that, of course, he—I was your age when he let me row out there.”

He spoke like this sometimes, always second-guessing himself. He didn’t seem to grasp how mouths were built to only entertain one thought at a time. Sora never minded, although sometimes he would have to remind himself to wait until his father had finished before jumping in himself.

“Now, I wasn’t…You’re a lot bigger than I was at that age,” he laughed nervously, “I wasn’t…No, you’re obviously much more athletic than I ever was.”

Sora waited.

“That’s a good thing, I think…”

“You could still come out and play with us, dad.”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried when they were younger. He hadn’t been very good at building sandcastles, or playing pretend, but none of that had ever mattered to Sora. On this he and his father seemed to disagree, but experience told him not to push it. He had no doubt his father cared for him—he just wished his father knew how to do it from a distance closer than arm’s length. He’d asked his mother about it, just the once.

“Has he always been like that?”

Yes? No? I don’t know? Sora wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the implications any of those potential answers carried.

“Always been like…what?” she said carefully.

“Dad,” he shrugged, “You know, just… _dad_.”

He didn’t use any specific words—it’d make it easier to pretend they’d never had this conversation, if need be.

She sat and thought about it, before saying, “He is, when all is said and done, the man I married—a good man.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t!”

Words—why was he so bad at them? Perhaps he was more like his father than he thought.

His mother cupped a hand to his cheek, “He tries to do the right thing—even if he isn’t sure what that is.”

Sora never remembered what happened after that. If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to give many concrete examples of what was wrong. It was just the little things, small incidents barely worth noticing, little drips of water that slowly wore away at his impression of what his home life should’ve been like. Most of it was words, and the problem with words was that once spoken they were gone forever. You couldn’t keep track of words. They dug in to your skin and then disappeared in to the ether, and who kept track of small, odd comments here and there? Sora wasn’t that petty, or at least, he liked to think he wasn’t.

But then one night he overheard them arguing.

He shouldn’t have been up so late, but he was hungry, and the door to his parents’ room just so happened to be on the way to kitchen, and left ajar as he passed by.

“What are you saying?”

Sora froze. That was his mother.

“I’m _just_ saying, he doesn’t look a thing like me.”

“But what are you _really_ saying?”

“I’m only saying what I’m saying! I’m just…making an observation! Stating the obvious! Is that so bad?”

He was definitely not supposed to be hearing this. He was definitely not supposed to even be awake. He was definitely…Why was this important? Why were they arguing about this? It seemed like such a stupid thing to fight about.

“You make it sound like it bothers you. He doesn’t look much like me either, and yet you’re always bringing it up.”

“You’re right, he doesn’t look like you either.”

There was the coldest silence, filled by the faces Sora could only imagine his parents were making at each other. None of them were very pleasant.

He didn’t feel like waiting around to hear the rest of this conversation. Heart in his throat, Sora crept the slowest and quietest trek he’d ever taken back to his room. Without a word he climbed in to bed and pulled the covers up over his head. He clutched his arms around himself. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but his stomach was still upset.

And that was the other thing about words—once you spoke them, people couldn’t take them back. There was no pretending, no way to unhear them.

By the time he was twelve Sora had learned to ignore it, just shove it down and go play outside. He spent a lot of time on the play islands. When he realized there was a pattern, that they only argued at night, when they thought he wouldn’t know, he asked for more sleepovers. Sora loved the island and he loved his parents, but god if he hadn’t spent the last few years of his life wondering how their lives would’ve gone if he wasn’t in the picture, if he could just remove the one and only thing they ever seemed to argue about.

It was when he was fourteen that Riku began talking about leaving the island—and not in the way they used to, when they were kids, all vague and non-specific, just pipe dreams punctuated by sighs of ‘one day.’

“Let’s do it. Let’s build a boat.”

He didn’t find any reason within him to object.


	6. To The Heart Seeking Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever just *clenches rock*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So context, Riku's characterization in this is heavily based on a specific chapter in one of the KH novels, in which Riku loses the race in the beginning of the game, goes off to sulk, and starts hearing Ansem SoD's voice, yada yada yada, there is darkness in the heart, it goes about how you'd expect. It's not necessary to read that novel in order to enjoy this chapter, but I have included at the end of this chapter a loose translation of one passage in particular that is really influential in how I see Riku's development as a character.

“Okay, so a boat is a little more complicated than I thought it might be,” Sora admitted, after a couple quick trips to the library and some quick skims through a few nautically themed books, “But a raft is just as good! We can do a raft.”

Riku ran his fingers through his hair, “Kairi managed, and she didn’t even have a raft.”

“You really think it’ll be that easy?”

“I’ll be a little disappointed if it _is_ that easy,” he grinned, all teeth and a glint in his eye.

Sora and Kairi had never seen Riku this fired up about anything before. They giggled half-heartedly, feeling perhaps a bit unclassed in the presence of his enthusiasm. It was clear he wanted this the most out of all three of them—not that this didn’t mean a lot to the two them as well. With Riku though it seemed like a matter of life or death, like his very blood was on fire with the promise of leaving the island soon.

“Have we decided on how we’re going to navigate?” Kairi pondered, flattening a page of her notebook before she started sketching possible building plans.

The boys instantly looked at each other. After a moment of silence, Kairi’s pencil stopped moving and she looked up, and it was then that she realized her mistake. She could see her words floating around in their heads, in one ear one way and out the other a completely different sentence. She might as well have said, “So who gets to be captain?”

“Or we can figure that out later,” she said quickly, waving her hands, pencil caught between her thumb and palm.

“I mean,” Riku started, because it was clearly too late now, “I am the oldest.”

“By like, a year,” Sora was quick to retort, “Not even. 8 months.”

The other boy shrugged, a smooth motion, like a non-threatened panther stretching before a nap, “I’m just saying, it makes the most sense.”

Sora rose to his feet, “I could do it! I could totally be a good captain!”

“I’m not saying you wouldn’t,” he said, voice still steady, volume decibel-even and calculated, like everything he did, “But I have actual experience as a captain.”

“Junior swim team doesn’t count! And you begged your mom to quit when Tidus got so embarrassed from peeing himself in the pool that he started crying.”

Kairi tossed her notebook on to the clubhouse floor, cheeks puffed out and arms crossed, “And what if _I_ want to be captain?”

On the inside, Riku scoffed. Kairi didn’t want to be captain—she’d never cared about titles before—she’d just said that to get them to stop fighting. He briefly wondered what that said about him, the fact that he entertained this rivalry between him and Sora, whereas Kairi always seemed secure in her pride as a person and didn’t easily loose her cool when he teased her. Sora was so easy to rile up, it was almost no fun, and yet he did it all the time anyway; it was a comfortable rhythm they’d fallen in to together.

With Kairi it was different. She was always able to deflect his ribs and taunts with some clever retort of her own. Sora was all beach races and swords fights, while his rhythm with Kairi was less physical, more a rivalry of words and wits, and that was just the way he liked—

“I think you’d make a great captain.”

Riku’s eyes snapped to where Sora had lowered himself again, bent at the knees and face-to-face with Kairi (wait, had they been sitting that closely a minute ago?).

She pressed her palms to her cheeks, “You think so??”

He nodded genuinely, hugging his knees “I-I didn’t mean to, you know, leave you out or anything. If you wanna be captain…”

Riku watched the exchange without saying a word. Sora seemed embarrassed? What the hell?

Kairi ruffled the hair at the base of her neck, laughing, “Nah, you two can figure that out later. I just want to focus on getting some supplies. It's more important to me that we work together.”

They shared a look and giggled together. It made something inside Riku’s chest tighten.

Shit.

He felt like he was watching something he wasn’t meant to see—or rather, something he was incapable of being a part of. Neither of them ever laughed that way with him, close and intimate. Whatever he had with either of them separately, it wasn’t whatever… _this_ was, the dynamic they had with each other. Riku resisted the urge to shake his head, diverged a good amount of energy in to shooing away the thoughts nagging at the back of his mind without outwardly showing it, and let out a controlled breath through his nose.

He coughed, the sound directing their attention back on him, and said, “Well then? I’m sure there’s a lot of things we’ll be needing. Let’s get started.”

They spent the majority of the next few hours looking for logs. There was plenty of wood on the island, sure, but decently sized pieces were hard to come by, short of hacking off chunks from the surrounding trees with a saw, and they didn’t exactly have one of those lying around. Riku found that throwing himself in to the work helped distract from the lingering anxiousness from earlier, but it kept surfacing every now and again.

He tried to convince himself that he was just imagining things, that that was just how Sora and Kairi were, as _people_ , and yet that only made him feel worse, because where did that leave him? It was in the middle of “repurposing” a loose plank from the stairwell leading up to the tree house that Riku happened a glance towards the beach. Sora was spread out on the sand, clearly passed out under the sun’s warm rays. This time Riku really did scoff.

Right. He was the oldest, the fastest, the strongest—Riku, the reliable one, the one Kairi and Sora looked up to to protect them. He was the one up here pulling nails out of wood with his bare hands while the others were goofing off.

…Come to think of it, where was Kairi?

He did a quick scan of the rest of this side of the island, and found her walking down along the shore to where Sora lay asleep. His heart froze.

Why did this matter so much to him? Why did seeing them together without him put him on such edge?

“What are you doing?”

Riku turned his head—hands still gripped on the board, hunched over in mid-pull with his leg hoisted up against the tree—to find Tidus looking at him incredulously.

“Um.”

He and Tidus stared at each other.

“Nothing,” he settled on, lamely.

The younger boy rubbed at his nose, “Sure. Right. Hey, you haven’t seen Selphie around up here, have you?”

Riku lowered his leg, “No…”

Tidus let out a huge sigh of relief, “Oh thank god. She’s been going around spouting off about some legend about the paopu fruit,” he shivered, “She’s got it in her head to find someone to eat one with her.”

Riku frowned, “The Paopu fruit? You mean the ones that grow on the tree near the beach?”

He glanced at the little islet the three of them always ended the day on—he’d always liked to consider it _their_ spot, even though technically all the kids on the island were welcome to play on it. They sat on that paopu tree every day, the star shaped fruit hanging over them like their own personal little galaxy. Up until now, he’d never thought they seemed particularly special, except for maybe the whimsical shape. A little ways away, he spotted Kairi standing over a beleaguered Sora. She’d woken him up, apparently.

He narrowed his eyes, “What kind of legend…?”

“If you share one with somebody, it’s supposed to bind you together for all eternity or something.”

Standing under the shade of the tree house, Riku had a bad idea. It was a bad idea and he didn’t even know it.

-

Well _now_ he knew it had been a bad idea. Why’d he have to go and use the _paopu fruit_ of all things to tease Sora?

Officially, he was aimlessly wandering about looking for mushrooms, as per Kairi’s instructions, but even this added to his frustration, because maybe she _would_ make a good captain if she was so great at delegating and organizing their activities, but whatever, that wasn’t why he was _really_ hiding himself away in the secret cove under the waterfall.

And it wasn’t even the paopu fruit really, it had been _Kairi_ he’d teased him with, and now Riku had lost one of their games, for the first time that hadn’t been on purpose. As if that did anything to quell his suspicions from earlier—and even if he had simply just been paranoid before, he’d certainly put the thought in Sora’s head now, which, well, just made all of this even worse. Like, good going Riku, what was that about self-fulfilling prophecies?

“Calm down,” he hissed at himself, a little embarrassed that he was losing his cool like this, even with no one around to see him.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the sound of the rushing water nearby. He started pacing, starting on one side of the mouth of the cave and going down the wall of scribbles. Looking at them always helped re-center him, filled him with a sort of reverent pride to know that this was their place, just his, Sora’s, and Kairi’s, a secret that only the three of them were privy to. Even the crudeness of the doodles, lines traced by child-sized hands, only added to the effect of making it feel like _theirs_.

When he got to the ones Kairi and Sora had drawn together on her first day on the island, he stopped.

“...what,” he said flatly.

So.

Well.

That certainly hadn’t been there earlier that day.

“Oh shit,” he said to no one but himself, “Oh, oh shit, shit, shit.”

He was scared. He was scared? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Riku never got _scared_. He started pacing again, this time at a more frenzied clip, breathing deep and fast.

This didn’t change anything, he told himself. They would still play together on the island, they’d sit under their paopu filled galaxy, and they’d still need him. He’d still be Riku, the one who was a year ahead of them, the one they turned to for help with homework, who vanquished spiders for them and showed them neat sword tricks and won all of their beach races—

The yell of frustration he let out reverberated against the walls.

He pushed his bangs back, held his head between his hands with a force that only rivaled the stare his was drilling in to a spot just beyond the floor of the cave. It was just when he was starting to think, ‘ _This isn’t healthy,’_ that he heard a voice call out to him.

“The question isn’t whether they need you or not.”

Riku spun around, “Who’s there?!”

There, standing in front of the mysterious door, was a figure covered in a long, brown hooded coat.

“The question is whether _you_ need _them_.”

Perhaps Riku should’ve been more wary that a stranger (and a stranger implying that he should ditch his friends no less) had somehow made his way in to the cave without him noticing, but having grown up on an island where everyone knew everybody else, his concept of stranger danger was a bit lacking.

If anything, it was actually on the absolute opposite end of appropriate, and so against his better judgment, he replied, “Y-you’re not from the island, are you...”

“Do you understand the significance of this island? Of this world?”

Riku’s heart started pounding, “So you’ve seen it—the outside??”

“Nothing. It means nothing.”

“Hey! I’m trying to have a conversation here with you!”

He was starting to vaguely be reminded of how conversations with his mother often went. Was this guy even aware they were in the same room?

“This world is not long for its return to darkness, and yet here you are. Why do you worry over meaningless things?”

His voice was a slow cadence, quiet enough that Riku had to strain to hear him, and yet there was a gravity to it. It drowned out everything else, the surge of the waterfall, the sound of his pulse in his ears.

“What do you mean, ‘return to darkness’?”

“Search your heart. The same darkness that calls out to this world, it calls out from deep within you as well.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“One who knows nothing can understand nothing—and yet the one who chooses to ignore what he knows to be true is the greater fool. You are not like the other one.”

Riku licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry despite the dampness of the air around them. He faintly remembered seeing Sora poking around this area earlier that day...

“S...Sora,” he was aware of the squeak his leather gloves made as he clenched his fists, “Did you say something to him?”

“Stop playing with the trappings of children. Your raft is meaningless, and there is a better way. Open your heart. Embrace the darkness and see for yourself what lies beyond the door.”

“But my friends—”

“Unnecessary. You do not need them.”

“They’re my friends! Of course I need them...”

“Look at them!” for the first time the figure’s voice rose, and Riku instinctively shifted, looked back at the drawing of Sora and Kairi.

The sand under his feet shushed quietly, a softer echo of the waves that could be heard in the distance outside. Unbidden, he slowly sank to his knees. He pressed against the new and unfamiliar lines with just the pads of his fingers, as if they might disappear at the mere contact of his touch. If only.

“They have outgrown you. It is time you pay them in kind.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They are making plans to take the raft and leave without you as we speak.”

Riku’s arms fell to his sides, one hand brushing against an errant stone, perhaps the very one Sora had used to make his addition.

“They wouldn’t,” he said with less conviction than he would’ve liked, “They’re important to me. I’m...I’m important to...”

He found himself gripping the stone in his hand.

“Look at the pain this causes you. Let it go. You have the power within you to rise above all this meaninglessness, and yet you hold on to things that make you weak.”

He could hear the voice growing steadily closer with each passing word, but he didn’t turn, even as the hairs on the back of his neck began to prickle. The stone was cold against his skin. He turned it over in his palm once, twice.

“It would be better if you just...”

He slowly raised his arm, eyes transfixed ahead of him on the drawing.

“Erased them.”

“SHUT UP!” he whipped around, hurling the rock as hard as he could.

It passed through empty air and struck the opposite cave wall, and Riku found himself completely and utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this is a long notes section. Here's the passage from the KH novel "Other Diamonds," loosely translated, along with the original text.
> 
> 'Why am I the one who had to be a year older?'  
> 'Maybe if I wasn't older, I wouldn't be like this.'  
> It hurt a bit, deep in his chest.  
> Even with the pleasant breeze, he felt terrible.  
> 'Supposing Sora didn't exist--or if Kairi didn't exist. If either one of them didn't exist, if just one of them could be here with me, maybe my life would be better...'  
> But as it was now, Riku didn't know what he should do.  
> The more he thought about a world without Sora, or a world without Kairi, the more this world seemed cruel and harsh.  
> There was a wind blowing.  
> Did it come from the sea?  
> Or perhaps the sky?  
> The ocean and sky before him--always, ever just the same in a world where nothing ever changed.  
> Riku closed his eyes.  
> Even so, the blue of the sky and sea seared itself to the backs of his eyelids.  
> He wanted to break free from this never-changing world.
> 
> Original text:
> 
> どうして俺だけ１歳年上なんだろう。  
> 年上じゃなかったら、こんな風に思うこともなかったのかもしれない。  
> 胸の奥がなんだか苦しい。  
> 風に心地いいのに、なんだか気分が悪かった。  
> もしもソラがいなかったら――もしも、カイリがいなかったら。ふたりのどちらかがいなかったら、きっと残っているどちらかと、俺はうまくやっていけるだろう。  
> でも今は、どうしたらいいのかわからない。  
> ソラのいない世界を、そしてカイリのいない世界をそれぞれ夢想するほどに、この世界は残酷だ。  
> 風が吹き抜けるいく。  
> この風は海からの風だろうか？  
> それても空からの風だろうか？  
> 目の前にある海と空は、いつもと同じ――きっと永久にかわることのない世界だ。  
> リクは目を閉じる。  
> 目を閉じても瞼の裏に空と海の青が焼きついている。  
> このかわらない世界から抜け出したかった。


	7. The Last Night We Spent Beneath The Same Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll need to work on your communication skills.

She had gotten comfortable. It had been really hard not to.

She didn’t know if it was because of how readily she’d found family and a community on the island, or if it was just some weird internal gravity that seemed to be built in to the very existential fabric of this place. Riku had been fighting it his entire life, and it was a quality they had bonded over in the early stages of their friendship, but eventually she found herself facing moments where it suddenly struck her that she hadn’t been thinking about her origins at all. It was like that jolt of consciousness that flared up at the edge of true sleep, where your head snapped up and you realized you’d lost control of your faculties, and the most alarming thing about it all was that you _hadn’t even noticed_.

Those moments grew farther and softer in-between, until finally Kairi found herself thinking, _‘I’m going to miss this place when I’m gone_. _’_

The leaving bit was inevitable—it wasn’t like she didn’t want that anymore—but now home was a discernible shape other than some far off and fuzzy memory, and it was _here_. She already had it. She only wanted to leave if it included coming back. Kairi sighed and stopped pacing for a bit to look out her window at the dark water, choppy and at the mercy of the wind.

She should’ve told them about all this, properly, back on the play island. She had tried to stay light-hearted as she brought it up, like it was nothing serious, but when Sora had given her that confused look, she immediately backed out of having _that_ conversation. And Riku, well...

Riku hadn’t shown up to the paopu tree at all. His boat had still been there when they had gone to the docks to row home, so it wasn’t like he had left the island without them. Kairi wondered briefly if he was still out there, in this weather. She bit her lip. He’d already been acting weird lately…

Except that wasn’t it either. She had this vague feeling like everything was on the verge of going really, really wrong. She couldn’t explain it directly, could only describe it in terms of things like how the breeze felt different lately, how that same warmth that permeated her home seemed uneasy, like a coldness had slipped in and taken root in the very heart of the island. It was a rawness inside her that reached out to everything these last few days, to the waves, the beach, her friends and family, so painfully aware that she could feel the presence of them all filling her right up to the surface of her skin.

Like this was the last time she might see any of this again.

Because even barring Riku’s troubling behavior—although yes, that was certainly part of it—she wasn’t afraid he might not want to come home. What Kairi feared was being _unable_ to come home, of leaving and coming back to find that everything and everyone she loved was gone. But that was silly though. Islands didn’t just up and disappear, did they?

The sound of hinges squeaking drew her attention to the door.

“Kairi?” her father stood at the threshold, a look of concern about him.

“Yeah?” she said, painfully aware that everything she was feeling wasn’t going away.

“Riku’s mother just called. He hasn’t come home for dinner. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

Kairi slowly shook her head, dread filling her stomach.

“I told her to check with Sora’s parents. Were they together when you left for home?”

“Probably...” she answered somewhat evasively, dread now mixing with guilt.

“Well hopefully he shows up sooner rather than later—either way I’m sure he’ll catch an earful,” he chuckled, the easy going laugh of a man who had no idea his daughter and her two best friends were harboring plans to literally run away.

On an island as small as theirs, it probably didn’t occur to him that there might be anywhere they could go. He still seemed obviously concerned but not overly worried.

“Speaking of dinner,” he continued, “it’s almost ready. I made your favorite.”

“O-okay. I’ll be down in a minute.”

He smiled and it made her heart squeeze. She watched the curve of his silhouette turn against the light spilling in from the doorway, the sight of the back of his vest, familiar and about to be gone for good.

“Hey dad,” it came bursting from her before she could stop it.

He turned back, “Yes?”

With as much fondness as she could muster, she said, “I love you.”

There was a beat, her father’s hand on the doorknob, and then he frowned, “Kairi, do you really not know where he is?”

She nodded her head quickly. She wasn’t technically lying, she told herself.

“Alright then,” he relented, features softening, “I love you too.”

As he shut the door behind him, Kairi looked outside the window. The weather hadn’t let up.

She took one glance back at where her father had been standing and added, under her breath, “I’m sorry.”

-

There was already a boat tied to the dock when she arrived—or rather, it was still where Kairi and Sora had left it behind, loyally waiting for an owner that had yet to return.

“Riku, what are you doing?”

She wrapped her arms around herself as a strong gust blew up against her, setting off at a jog towards the beach. She was cold, and slightly wet from the ride over, and her first instinct was to check on the raft. The mast was lurching back and forth as she came up to it, unstable, the boards partially obscured by blown-over sand.

She frantically scanned the nearby area, before cupping her hands around her mouth and screaming, “Riku!!”

Nothing but howling wind. Squinting against the sand scratching at her face, Kairi tried to suppress the sinking feeling that this was a useless endeavor, and that she might now be stuck on this island in the middle of a storm. But then she felt a hand close around her wrist and nearly jumped out of her skin. She saw him out the corner of her eye first, her head twisting around before the rest of her could follow.

“What the heck, Riku?!” she clutched at her chest.

“What are you doing out here?” he yelled over the noise.

“Looking for you!” she tried not to sound so incensed—like, yes? Duh?? “What are _you_ doing out here??”

His mouth was a thin line, bereft of any actual response. The way he wouldn’t directly look at her unsettled her.

“We—we gotta find someplace to go. The storm’s getting worse, and I don’t think we can row back.”

He shook his head, “We can go.”

She grabbed his hand, pulling in a direction that suggested inward towards the island, “It’s not safe Riku!”

He shrugged out of her grip, took a step towards the raft instead.

It slowly dawned on her what he meant, “...what, now? Are you insane?! The raft’s not even finished!”

Riku kept walking until he was standing on the wooden boards. He took a fistful of sail and yanked, ripping the material from the mast.

Kairi immediately was at his side, tugging it out of his grasp, “What is wrong with you?! You’re—You’re seriously—You’re freaking me out!”

“The door is open Kairi.”

She grabbed him with both hands, spun him so that he had to face her, and shouted, “We! Have! To! _Go_!”

“We _can_ go! There’s another way!”

Kairi stiffened against Riku. Never mind the warning bells that were going off in her head, there was another issue to address—

“Sora’s not even here. We can’t…” she stopped and corrected herself, “We couldn’t leave without him.”

For the first time, he looked her right in the eyes, “Just like how you and Sora weren’t going to leave without me.”

Her blood ran cold. The sound of the fabric in her hand beating against them in the wind was sharp, the only noise to accompany the tempest around them. He looked like he was waiting for her to say something.

When she didn’t he pushed off of her, as if burned, “So it’s true!”

“Not—” she reached out for him but was met with Riku’s hand swatting hers away.

How had he even known about that?

She bit her lip, “We weren’t really gonna…it was just messing around.”

A hiss above their heads made both of them look up. At first Kairi thought about black holes, only distinguishable by their affect on their surroundings—the winds around them picked up, shifted, curved like they’d come alive and were dancing around a new eye of the storm. Kairi’s hair was a mess of red rivers, the strands, the cloth in her fist, all trying to flow with the winds towards some singular point above them. And it was there, up in the sky, that appeared a small bubble of...was there a word for the opposite of mass or matter? It was a pocket of perfect spherical nothingness—and it was growing bigger each second.

“We can go,” she heard him say again, “There’s a way for all of us. You and me…and Sora too.”

“Riku, what did you do?”

Her voice came so quiet, not even in Riku’s direction, her eyes still trained upward, a declaration at large of confusion and fear. She felt a touch at her shoulder, and it was her turn this time to flinch and pull away. His hand remained outstretched, his expression pleading.

“I can take us there, to the outside world!” he said, “It’ll be just like we dreamed, all three of us, together!”

She didn’t take his hand. The roar of the wind felt muted, as if even the sound of it all was getting sucked up in to the abyss.

“Wh-what about the island? What’s happening?”

“This world isn’t strong enough to make it through what’s coming,” Kairi’s heart leapt at his words, her fears from earlier clawing back up her spine, “But we can go and I can—I can protect you both!”

She look at him, at the hand he offered so unwaveringly. She’d never seen him look so scared.

“Kairi, please.”

Off in the distance, Kairi took one last fleeting look at the main land. A black ocean of tumultuous waves carved out an insurmountable distance between them. People always talked about how, just before the end of everything, your whole life flashed before yours eyes—what Kairi saw in that moment felt like flashes of all the things she had left unfinished and unspoken.

She saw her last encounter with Tidus, Wakka, and Selphie, their smiling faces as they all went home, unaware that they’d be waking up the next morning to find three of their friends gone without so much as a goodbye—she thought about the raft, now without anyone to captain it, left forlorn and incomplete, a promise never to be fulfilled—there she was, on the pier with Sora, wasting what she hadn’t realized was the last time she’d have to share her fears with him—and she saw her father, fading downstairs, who believed with all his heart that his daughter would sleep safe and sound that night.

She turned and ran.

She ran, her hands at her mouth, feeling the urge to be sick, tears streaming down her face. She ran towards the trees, towards the home she knew she was about to lose. As the foliage rushed forward to welcome her one last time, she glanced back behind her, just the once.

The last thing she saw was her friend, his hand outstretched towards the sky.


	8. It's Just Kinda Scary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-care! Financial responsibility! Dealing with the crippling fear that everyone you know and love is leaving you behind! Everyone’s gotta leave the nest sometime and learn how to make it on their own at some point. At least you don’t have to deal with taxes, Sora.

There was no concept of time in space.

Sora shook his head—that wasn’t right. There was no concept of night or day in space, and that meant that regular sleep schedules weren’t a thing either. He’d officially been to three worlds by Gumi ship now, and it was only on his return to Traverse Town, a hub under never sleeping stars, that it occurred to him that he hadn’t stayed on any of them long enough to see the sun go down.

What was Leon talking about now? Something about a report or...some wise guy or whatever. Sora’s head started to bob.

“Whoa, Sora. You okay there, buddy?” Yuffie said, cutting one of Cid’s explanations short.

“Oh, uh,” he flinched, snapping his view back in to focus, “Sorry, guess I dozed off there.”

Aerith walked calmly over to him, startling him a bit as she pressed a gentle hand to his forehead. It was not at all unlike how his mother used to check him for fevers, which made him somewhat incensed, but mostly just suddenly embarrassed.

“You look exhausted,” she said, “When was the last time you properly rested?”

“Uh,” he wasn’t being particularly eloquent at the moment, “So we left Traverse Town, and then it’s been...let’s see, we went to Wonderland, and then...”

Sora was slowly counting on his fingers when Cid interrupted him, “Have you slept at all since we last saw you?!”

“Sora!” Yuffie’s hands went to her face, “It’s been almost two days!”

“Gawrsh,” Goofy said, sounding reproachful, “Why didn’t you tell us? Me and Donald are used to switching shifts on the Gummi ship.”

Aerith turned towards the duo, “And neither of you thought to ask?”

Donald let out a squeaky counter-complaint, “How were we supposed to know if he didn’t say any—”

Sora suddenly tipped forward, staggering to regain his balance right before the point of no return.

“Well, you should definitely let us know if you need to rest Sora,” Donald tried again, the sourness from before softening, “You need to take care of yourself, you know.”

“I’m fine,” Sora insisted, “I’m totally fine.”

When he tried to take another step and found himself buckling at the knee, a pair of hands scooped under his arms, pulling him up until his feet left the ground. Leon’s face came looming in to view.

“Bed. Now,” he said, in a tone that suggested that arguing was not an option.

With his legs hanging heavy with fatigue, Sora could only reply, “Okay,” before he was set down on the bed.

He didn’t even object when Aerith tucked the sheets in.

-

Goofy and Donald were much more cognizant of Sora’s state of rest on the way to the next world.

“I’m doing alright, guys!” Sora said cheerfully, proceeding to barrel roll the ship while shooting at an out-of-the-way meteorite, which in turn led to them smashing against a metal panel.

They all agreed at that point that perhaps it was someone else’s turn to pilot for awhile. Sora spent the rest of the trip practicing his newly acquired Cure spell. By the time they touched down in Agrabah, everyone was feeling rather refreshed (and oddly enough, Sora thought, like he had the taste of mint in his mouth).

It was the first world he stayed in long enough to experience a shift in daylight. It was also here that it first struck Sora that he might have to learn some munny management skills.

“Sugar dates! Sugar dates and figs! Sugar dates and pistachios!”

Sora turned towards the voice with the automatic movements of someone who had never before had to resist the call of a street vendor.

“What—” he had time to say, before an assortment of sweet smelling foods were shoved in his face.

“The best in town, I guarantee it! Think of the best fig you ever had. Five times that!”

Somewhere ahead of Sora, Donald, Goofy, and Aladdin were walking further down the street, neither party aware of the growing seperation.

“I’ve never had a fig before. Is it good?” Sora asked, curiosity lighting up his eyes.

“Never—My boy, have you been living under a rock? Here...”

The vendor took one of Sora’s hands and pressed a golden purple fruit to his palm.

“The best you’ll get for several miles, promise!” he insisted, watching eagerly as Sora popped the whole thing in to his mouth.

“This is amazing!” he said, as the syrupy sweetness flooded his taste buds, “I could eat a whole bowl full of these!”

“You’re in luck! I’m selling these at a special price today—half off if you buy a whole pound!”

Sora let the fig roll around in his mouth, savoring the flavor as he rooted around in his pocket, pulling out the satchel he’d been using to carry his stuff around. He pulled out a couple of shiny, octahedral objects, dropped tokens he’d picked up from various defeated Heartless.

“Um...I don’t know what you use to pay around here, but would these work?”

The vendor made no sudden movements, but if Sora had been paying attention he might have noticed the man’s pupils widening.

“I suppose,” he swallowed, eyeing the jewel like objects in Sora’s palm, “We could come to some sort of agreed upon exchange rate...”

“How much do you think would be fair?” Sora asked, sporting an unfortunate and innocent smile.

“Oh, I think we could—”

“Don’t listen to him!” there was an abrupt commotion to Sora’s left, as the neighboring vendor pulled him by the elbow in to his stall, “Figs? Whatever. A ring? _Forever_.”

“I don’t really know...”

“You got someone special? A pretty necklace, for a pretty lady,” the new vendor flashed an ornate looking set of jewelry and Sora went pink, both at the implication and the sudden attention.

“No, I’m just passing through.”

“Ah! A traveler. You want one of these then,” he pulled out a simple looking ring, a band with color-treated sections meant to resemble fire, “A common ring to the common onlooker, but to a discerned vagabond such as yourself, a priceless necessity for voyages across the scorching desert.”

“What’s it do?” Sora admired the way the sun glinted off the metal.

“A powerful enchantment. Protects the wearer from extreme heat.”

Sora thought about their earlier encounters with Heartless that could spit fire. He remembered a particularly painful instance involving Donald’s tail feathers and winced.

“Oh! That sounds useful!” he chirped, gladly holding out his handful of munny towards the man.

“Wise choice,” the vendor scooped up the munny, leaving the ring in Sora’s palm, all in one experienced motion.

He had barely put the ring on when there was another tug on his elbow.

“Now hold on, you still need provisions on your travels, do you not?” the fig vendor said, eyeing the hidden contents of Sora’s satchel.

“I guess—”

“Fish! Fresh fish!” yet another vendor came bounding at him from behind, “A young traveler needs protein, not sweets!”

“Nonsense! My dried fruit and nuts will last you several months! Don’t listen to this hack of a salesman!”

The weight on his arm was making Sora go lopsided.

“I still have more rare pieces you’re welcome to peruse through!”

Sora was starting to go a little dizzy, right as he felt someone grip the back of his jacket and pull upwards. A few seconds later he found himself sprawled out on top of the market stalls.

“You’re really not from around here, are you?” Aladdin laughed, offering him a hand.

Sora looked at him sheepishly as he accepted the help, standing up and saying, “You could say that...”

“Let’s get going, before your friends freak out any more than they already have for losing you,” he made a motion for Sora to follow him, jumping from one stall to the next.

Sora nodded, springing after him as the shouts of the vendors below him faded away.

-

Interstellar traversing abilities set aside, the Gummi Ship was a pretty tight fit for three people. Sora sat on the edge that ran the length of the circular dome above their heads, absentmindedly twirling the ring he’d gotten at the bazaar around his finger. It had actually proven pretty useful in the Cave of Wonders.

He sighed as they left the orbit of Agrabah. Four worlds and he still hadn’t learned anything. Where was Kairi? And where had Riku run off to? Sora looked out past the floating debris of space and took in the stars—every star a world where perhaps his friends might be waiting for him. He hadn’t realized how small being out here would make him feel.

It had been so much easier to imagine when they were kids. Children had a way of seeing things simply—they drew brow-birds, puffy trees, and blue band skies. The sky used to be a blue line you drew at the top of the paper—didn’t even cover most of the white area. He pressed his fingers to the ship’s window and tried to count all the stars, all the worlds he would never be able to fit inside a single blue band. They all felt so far away.

Oh sure, there were the interludes of crushing meteors with lasers— _with lasers_ —and that was pretty great, but most times it was kinda empty out in space. The stars had always looked so much closer to each other, only a finger’s width apart and clustered close enough to cover with the palm of his hand. Flat, like a painting.

Some part of him was okay with this, like he’d already prepared for these moments of being adrift. It had been a possibility he’d thought of when building the raft, after all. He just figured he’d have been adrift at actual _sea,_ instead of a sea of stars, and with…

“Hey Donald, Goofy. We’re friends, right?”

“Of course Sora!” Goofy said, not even missing a beat.

Sora leaned his head against the glass, fog gathering on its surface as he spoke, “Even when you find your king and go back home?”

Donald and Goofy looked at each other.

“Gawrsh...you feeling okay?”

“It’s just…” Sora stared out in to the distance, the far off twinkling lights filling him with funny thoughts, “Being out here. Things that that seemed so close, turned out to be far away after all.”

The Gummi ship slowed a bit as Donald turned his head, “Gee Sora, it’s not like you to be down.”

“I get sad!” Sora automatically countered, “...I get sad.”

“And that’s fine!” Goofy added from his chair, “It’s okay to get sad sometimes. The important thing is to remember that me and Donald will always be there for you.”

Sora looked out at the empty space and wondered if he could discern the shape of the home he’d left behind.

“I hope so,” he said, as another star in the distance went out, “I really hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, this chapter exists because you can actually pick up a Fira Ring in a chest in the Bazaar in-game, and my brain went, “Finding jewelry randomly in a box? Pfffft, let’s give that some more narrative significance.”  
> Because that’s what we all wanna see, right.  
> Right.


	9. Show Me How Important

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night doesn't go the way Riku was hoping.

Her cheek was soft, cold against his chest, and he held her closer as the winds picked up. It was cold and drafty up here on the clock tower, but the view was nice and a wistful part of himself liked to think that he’d brought Kairi here because she would’ve liked to see the city below them, all small and far away, sprawling lights scattered amidst the London fog. He was supposed to be looking for that Wendy girl, and if the captain had asked, he would’ve said being up here gave a good view of most of the city at once.

Could...could she even see it like this? Her eyes were open, so perhaps there was some part of her still in there? They were so empty though, like frosted glass, and—

Riku shivered—perhaps it wasn’t best to think about it too much.

He set her down facing the city anyway. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, and remembered the last words he’d said to her had been an argument. The prospect that they might’ve been the last words he’d _ever_ say to her was a thought that made his stomach churn.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, looking out at the expanse of this world. The moon sat heavy above the sleeping buildings, and Riku reached a hand out. There was something about the image of that full circle, perfect and nestled against the curve of his thumb and forefinger. In a moment of whimsy he seized his hand into a fist, the feeling of closing in on empty air leaving him bitter, and perhaps even a bit foolish.

He turned back to his silent companion, Kairi’s vacant gaze trained on the ground. The feeling didn’t go away. He sat down next to her, curling his legs up to his chest, head tilted just so and resting on his knees.

“Wake up, lazy bones,” he said quietly, as if afraid she might hear him.

It was the first time they were together since the island, if you could call this together. Sora had been fine when he left the island—why had this happened to her? Why hadn’t she (why hadn’t _Sora_ ) taken his hand? If Sora were here maybe they could’ve figured this out together—maybe this would’ve never happened in the first place if she’d just gone with him from the beginning.

‘ _They wanted to leave without you_. _’_

Riku gripped the fabric of his clothes. He remembered the last time they’d all been together, sitting on their tree, how he’d poured his heart out and said nothing but how much he’d wanted to embark on this journey with them—and yet here he was, alone.

His chest felt like a sinkhole, tight and congested with all the thoughts he had tried to push to the back of his mind until now. He had _thought_ this would be different. Never mind that they should never have gotten split up—after all that searching, worrying himself sick over whether his friends had made it through the storm without him, he had hoped that things would just go back to how they were before once he found them. He’d even imagined it at times, how their reunion would go (could maybe still go?).

They’d hug him, and Kairi would maybe even cry a little. Sora would thank him and tell him how amazing he was, how amazing he’d always been, so reliable, Riku, the oldest and bravest—

‘ _You’re so stupid, of course he wouldn’t—’_

But no, Sora seemed to be doing just fine on his own, with his new Keyblade, and his new friends, and just _ugh_ , why couldn’t it have been him that found him first? Was he even looking for Kairi? There wasn’t any reason he wouldn’t be—Sora cared just as much about Kairi as he did, after all. He considered how things might’ve gone if Sora had found her instead.

Unbidden, the image of the cave drawing resurfaced in his mind. He immediately felt like all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs.

‘ _They’re nice. They’re nice people. They fit so well together and you, you—’_

She had been _scared._ Scared of him? Sora had seemed hesitant too, now that he thought about it, even if he’d at least tried to reach out.

He could fix it—he’d figure out a way to get Kairi’s heart back, and then they’d see just how much he was willing to do to protect them. Would that be enough? He wasn’t friendly like Sora, definitely not sweet like Kairi. What else was he good for, if not this one thing? Deep down, Riku tried not to think about how awful this made him, relying on his friends’ helplessness.

‘ _It only works if they need you. If they can take care of of themselves—if they have each other, then they don’t need you.’_

It was like a vice around his heart, and he knew it wasn’t pretty, but he couldn’t let it go.

He wiped away a couple of forming tears, which, great, hadn’t even realized he’d been about to cry, which just made him feel even worse. A soft hissing noise made him snap his head up. Somewhere at his feet a misty pool of black ether swirled in to existence. Riku watched with morbid curiosity as something solid bubbled up from the center. It started to rise, like a piece of cloth being gathered up into a form resembling something...vaguely human.

Riku let out a sharp cry and stood up, bracing himself against the wall behind him. It wasn’t just human-shaped—it was Sora. Pitch-black skin and yellow-socketed eyes notwithstanding, that was definitely the shape of him. Shadow-Sora moved restlessly in one spot, not unlike the lesser Heartless, swaying gently but punctuated by sudden jerks as he took in the surroundings.

He—

‘ _It,’_ Riku shook his head, _‘It’s not really Sora.’_

It took one step forward, and Riku found himself tensing as the figure came in to his personal space. Shadow-Sora showed no hint of expression (Riku stifled the urge to reach out and see if it even _had_ a face to make expressions with, or if his fingers would simply sink in to a black emptiness where flesh and bone should’ve been), and yet the figure’s body language conveyed intense interest and curiosity.

‘ _It’s watching…,’_ Riku swallowed, unable to break eye-contact, _‘No, it’s waiting for something...for me?’_

He slowly eased off of the wall and was relieved to see Shadow-Sora step back a little, mirroring his steps, gaze still locked on him.

“Um,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Could you quit staring? It’s kinda creepy...”

Shadow-Sora immediately looked elsewhere, a quick flick of the head that carried no emotion, just automatic compliance. It settled instead on Kairi, still propped up against a pillar and unaware of all of this.

A few quick steps in her direction was all it took for Riku to draw forth Soul Eater, his movements sudden and instinctive, “Don’t touch her—!”

The sword cut the air with a hiss, Shadow-Sora’s body turning to face the on-coming attack. Before his blade could connect, a puff of black smoke erupted and engulfed his target, and Riku felt his arm swing through empty space. He stumbled forward a bit, like someone having just stepped through a stair step they swore had been there a moment ago. He took a moment to collect himself. The image of Soul Eater almost passing through a face that was _just_ enough like Sora’s was enough to leave him a little shaken, enough to replay itself a few times in his mind.

That was...weird.

He glanced over at Kairi, his chest still a little tight, before looking down at his clenched fists, the hilt of Soul Eater staring back up at him as he considered something.

With some degree of uncertainty he stretched out one hand, concentrating. Almost right away a now familiar pool of black gathered in the spot where Shadow-Sora had just moments ago stood, the same unfolding shape rising from it, and Riku’s heart caught in his throat.

He did this.

He’d _made_ this.

Was this what Maleficent had meant about being able to control the Heartless? Her words from earlier came floating through his thoughts.

_Why do you still care about that boy?_

Riku’s grip slackened, and Soul Eater disappeared with quiet obedience. He slid down the pillar once again, head in his hands. Everything suddenly seemed like too much. He let out a breath that had been meant to be a sigh but which came out as hollow laughter, the back of his head hitting the wall behind him. Before he could stop it, hot, thick tears were streaming down his face. Shadow-Sora tilted its head to one side before sitting down at Riku’s other side, the soles of its feet pressed flat against each other, hands resting on ankles.

_Beware the darkness in your heart. The Heartless prey upon it._

He had told Maleficent before to mind her own business, but he considered her words more seriously now. Here, sandwiched between ghosts of the two people he loved more than anything, he made a decision. This did not change anything—he would still find Kairi’s heart and save her, and then Sora would have to realize how wrong he’d been.

And this, _‘_ _ **This**_ , _’_ he thought, wiping the last vestiges of tears away, _‘This will be the last time I ever let myself be so weak.’_


	10. Thinking Of You, Wherever You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Give Kairi more screen-time 2019.

Kairi got the feeling that she was not alone.

She would not remember this—well, not with so much clarity—and okay, yeah, hanging out in someone’s … heart? By definition, not alone. But she could _feel_ someone … else here.

And that was the operative word here, feel. Kairi sat at the precipice of the podium, legs dangling over the infinite blackness that didn’t feel quite real. Like, if she fell off, she got the sense she wouldn’t actually go anywhere. You could fall into a hole, even one with theoretically no bottom, and still be going somewhere, but this was a void so empty as to literally be unfillable.

She didn’t feel particularly inclined to test that theory out though.

There wasn’t too much to do here, but she often paced around the platform. The stained glass was so beautiful; she never tired of looking at it, even when it made her heartsick. It was about the only thing that made her remember who she was at times. She liked to stand on the little circle with her face on it and giggle softly. Something about the juxtaposition she found humorous, she supposed.

Sometimes she caught glimpses. Just small things, flashes of black swarms peppered with amber eyes, the sweet lights and ringing bells of a healing spell, Donald stuffing his face with a watercress sandwich. Then there were other times, where Sora’s companions were nowhere to be seen, and it was just one person, too close to see a face, just arms around her and a warm chest against her cheek and the faint smell of sand and the earth. Those were fewer and far between, and a bit more fleeting. The clearest it ever got was a glimpse of herself, creaking wood and the gentle rocking of waves around her, and for a moment she almost felt _real_ again.

But only almost.

And then sometimes, she swore she was seeing things _here_ , in the corner of her eye, echoes of laughter just always the other side of her blind spots away. Flashes of black, grey … a boy? Blonde? She was giving herself non-existential whiplash trying to catch a glimpse of something she was starting to believe she was just imagining. Ha. Just imagining something, in a place like this. Imagine that.

But then she heard it.

“You’re that girl he likes.”

The voice was soft, soothing, all around her in the darkness.

“Hello?” she said, in some general direction or other, not really sure how to address a disembodied voice.

“You’ve been here for awhile.”

The voice felt closer that time. She turned around to find a boy standing across the platform, about Sora’s height and the spitting image of him, if Sora were a little older, blonde, and had hair that maybe actually considered gravity a bit before completely ignoring it.

“I … Do I know you?” she said, because she felt like she did.

He shook his head.

“You’re just like me,” he said, as if that explained anything, and yet …

‘ _Kairi! Kairi! Open your eyes!’_

A chill ran through her. It was her body. She could feel it, could _see_ it, it was so close, so close, _so close—_

‘ _But first, you must give the princess back her heart.’_

She sucked in a breath. Suddenly there were a million prickling needles, a million threads under her skin pulling her backward. She fell to her knees.

“Riku, what’re you … ?”

There were bursts of images, Sora and Riku arguing, hovering over her, and it was faster now, and, _‘Kairi … Kairi’s inside me?’_

She shook her head vigorously, wiped the tears forming in her eyes against the goosebumps of her arm. They were all together again, finally, but this was not how it was supposed to go.

She could see him, Riku raising his blade above them…

“Sora!”

The visions were blurring, too much at once—clangs of metal against metal, and so much fire. The boy knelt down at her side. Oh. She had almost forgotten about him. He put his hand on her shoulder.

“This is stupid!” she cried, “They're f-fighting and I can’t…I could stop it, I need to—”

He put his arms around her, pulled her up until they were both standing, and he held her. The needles and thread kept pulling.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she sobbed in to his shirt.

He squeezed her a bit tighter, “Everything will be okay.”

Kairi breathed. Slowly, the world outside faded. She could still feel it, but it was duller, easier to parse through, not as sharp. She didn’t know if it was because the fight outside had moved farther away from her body, or if it had something to do with the boy’s disquietingly familiar presence (both, it was definitely both).

And not…familiar in a way that she thought she might know him personally, but there was something similar about him, like meeting yourself, a reflection that mirrored what was most important. She squeezed back, and felt a little bit warmer.

It reminded her of the warmth of the island, the trees swaying in the breeze. She thought about the family and friends she had left behind, most likely all gone, blinked out with the rest of the star-worlds. She thought about her boys, outside, fighting.

“I want to go home,” she said.

The boy nodded softly, “Me too.”

No sooner had he spoken a sharp pain shot through her chest. There was the sensation of being physically stabbed, like her rib cage was being cracked in two.

And then it kept going. Her vision followed the pain inward, inverted, persisted behind her like a sleeve being pulled through itself. Stained-glass and black, foggy mist rushed past her, the images rolling over her, over and over on itself, those threads and needles pulling her apart until…

The boy held his hands out, framed the space where Kairi had stood merely moments before, cradling the soft bright light of her form now. He let the glow of it wash over him, her presence fading and becoming less unreal, too real now to hold on to a manifestation of her image, but still in that in-between of here-and-not-there. This was her, all that she was—all that really mattered. He smiled sadly. Standing here with this small ball of light in his hands, it all felt a little nostalgic somehow.

The slightest of pushes sent the little orb on its way. It may have been a meaningless gesture—she was being called back regardless—but it still felt like the right thing to do.

-

They had avoided talking about it until now. Sora and Kairi sat on the edge of the safe-house's bed, silent, waiting to see who was brave enough to bring it up first.

It turned out to be Kairi, “Riku’s not doing so well, is he?”

Sora flinched, looked at his feet as if afraid to look her in the eye, “You’ve missed a lot. It’s...complicated.”

“I saw bits and pieces...” she swung her legs absentmindedly, trying to remember, “At least, I think. It’s all kinda fuzzy.”

“Was it nice? You know, being in—” he suddenly turned a soft shade of pink, “Being in my heart.”

Kairi giggled, “It was, nice. And warm. I don’t remember much, but I do remember that.”

She pulled at a loose thread in the sheets, picking through her thoughts for a moment, her smile softening into something more sober, “And...I think I remember Riku, just a little. He was so lonely.”

A pang of guilt struck itself through Sora, “Yeah, I...I had no idea he had all of that inside him. I always thought, because he was older, that, you know...I didn’t realize he was so...”

“I did,” Kairi’s voice came so quiet and yet so full of feeling that it seemed to fill the whole room, “I knew.”

Sora saw Kairi’s hand shaking on the bed next to his, and felt an overwhelming urge to steady it with his own. As his hand gently covered hers a soft cry escaped from the girl beside him, and when the tears started forming he wondered if the contact had been a mistake but held on regardless, tightening his hold in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“I-I knew, and I—,” she rubbed at the water in her eyes with her free hand, stuttering and restarting sentences as she tried to keep the tears in and get the breaths out, “I was—was scared, so I didn’t—”

“You tried to tell me,” Sora said, his heart pounding in his chest, “And I didn’t get it.”

“And now he thinks … He thinks we hate him, Sora!”

“We can fix it!” he said to himself as much as he did to Kairi, “We just have to get through to him!”

“But he’s lost his—”

Sora reached over and pulled her close, her head softly hitting his chest.

“We’ll save him,” he said, “I promise. I’ll figure something out.”

Her voice drifted up from within the safe pocket of space between his arms and chest, “We should never have gotten separated.”

Sora wished he had something profound to say. He felt Kairi take a deep breath, her small frame ballooning against him, feeling small himself, only 14 and wishing he had more answers than the steadfast embrace of his arms.

“We’ll fix it,” he said, a quieter echo of himself, “There has to be a way.”

Kairi nodded silently, save for a tiny sniffle here or there. Outside—where Donald and Goofy waited patiently for Leon and company—it was still quiet, no signs as of yet of their arrival.

It was a moment before she said anything, “Sora? Can we … just stay like this for a little bit?”

“Yeah,” he answered without missing a beat, suddenly feeling the weight of the past...wow.

Just how long had it been since they’d left the island? They both slowly fell to their sides, not once letting go of each other, the mattress giving way underneath them with a creak. He tried not to think about how all he had to remind him of home were these two people, one best friend in his arms and the other who may or may not have been robbed from them forever. It wasn’t the first time on this journey that he had felt this heavy, but now at Kairi’s behest it was the first time he felt like he had permission.

This was how Leon and the others found them, voices hushed as they walked in to find Sora, half-lidded lashes brushing drops of tears against a wet spot in the sheets, with Kairi beside him, nestled against the boy who had carried her in his heart, asleep and dreaming of the boy who had carried her in his arms. There were important things to discuss, but it was all they could do to let them have this moment linger on for just a little longer. The reality of how the fate of the worlds rested on their young shoulders (so young, _too_ young, these _children’s_ shoulders) hung over all of them with tangible pressure.

Leon thought about his and Sora’s first encounter and wished the Keyblade hadn’t rejected him. It all seemed a bit unfair, really.


	11. Thank Namine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day at the office.

Riku liked Naminé a lot. DiZ (and from her accounts of her time with them, the Organization) mostly wrote her off as quiet and unassuming—which, yes, she could be. But there was a genuine warmth underneath all of it, and he came to really appreciate the sense of calm she interjected in to the otherwise tense uneasiness that filled him most days.

His working relationship with DiZ was pragmatic—necessary, a symbiosis of mutual benefit and understanding—but he didn’t feel especially close with the man. If not for their common goal of waking up Sora, Riku didn’t think he’d have any interest in associating with him at all. He was selfishly single-minded (which Riku couldn’t judge him too much for, since that aspect of their relationship was a two-way street), unforthcoming with information, and he spoke about Naminé (and even Roxas) in ways that unsettled him.

Tools didn’t hum quietly to themselves as they traced sunsets across a page; they didn’t insist on tapping your popsicles together before the first bite, a toast to another day and the tomorrow that would hopefully replace it; they couldn’t be your _friend_ , which Riku considered her very much to be.

“You could go see her,” she said one night offhandedly, catching him sneaking a glance at the figure of a certain redhead she was sketching.

He quickly averted his gaze, as if caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing, and Naminé had to stifle a giggle as he fought a small but rising blush. Riku had become a lot more reserved since his fight with Roxas and the resulting...alteration he’d undergone. It was unnerving seeing him with Ansem’s face, and it broke her heart to see the careful indifference that served as his current default expression. Nowadays, she took delight in breaking it up with even the smallest of grimaces, discomposure, or smiles.

She might have even, perhaps, admitted to occasionally calling Riku in to a room for the sole purpose of watching him hit his head on the door frame, as he was still getting used to his suddenly much taller body.

“Not like...this,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“If you explain, I’m sure she’d understand.”

“No, it’s not just...” he sighed, trying to find the words, “There’s too much. I’d have to explain not just _this_ ,” he gestured up and down the length of himself, “I’d have to explain why I never came home before now, and I’d have to tell her about Sora, who she doesn’t remember, and...that’s a lot.”

Naminé just shook her head, all the while still focusing on the task in front of her, “I think she’d understand.”

“Even though you’ve never met her?”

The room where Naminé did most of her work was simple, barren of both furniture and color, save for the table and chairs. When she stopped mid-stroke to consider his question, the lack of the sound of her hand brushing against the page, the scritching of wax against paper—normally nearly inaudible sounds in other rooms—was markedly noticeable here.

Riku’s earlier conversation that day with DiZ floated around somewhere in the back of his mind.

_But whose Nobody is she?_

She said it matter-of-factly, not sad so much as a resignation punctuated with the return of her hands to her work, “DiZ told you, didn’t he?”

He shrugged, “It doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re right,” and maybe this time she _did_ sound a little sad, “She doesn’t need me. I’m not like Roxas or the other Nobodies. I’m just...a mistake.”

“Naminé, that sounds a lot like DiZ talking…”

Her gaze didn’t once leave the sketchbook as she continued, “We wouldn’t be having this conversation though, would we? If I weren’t different, or useful?”

“Naminé,” he said her name again, like it might make things more real, make _her_ feel more real, “Naminé, we’re friends. I don’t care what anyone else—even you—says, but I’m glad you exist.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and surprised, her mouth small and lax, like all thought had fled from her. When she ducked her head, trying to hide the smile that bloomed across her face, Riku felt a tension leave his shoulders that he hadn’t known had built up over the course of the last minute or so.

“We’re friends,” she said, finally turning to survey the many drawings on the walls, “I’m glad.”

He watched quietly as she looked at the scenes she’d drawn with an almost yearning look.

When he noticed her settle on one scene in particular, he said, “I think you’d like the beach.”

“I think so too.”

-

Naminé held her sketchbook close to her chest with one hand, her sea-salt ice cream at an angle as it dripped in the other, “DiZ is going to be so mad.”

“If I can leave the mansion, then so can you. You’re not a prisoner Naminé. It’ll be fine as long as no one sees us,” Riku brought the corner of his own sweet to his mouth, allowing himself only a nibble as he looked straight ahead.

It was funny.

He’d spent his entire childhood staring out at the ocean, and now here he was—in the same spot he used to stand in—but now with his back to the sea-ward water and gazing soberly at the mainland. He wondered if somewhere there, Kairi was drifting off to sleep for the night.

Naminé stayed close by, toeing her sandals off and stepping slowly but bravely in to the approaching tide, a defiant smile on her face. Looking at her now, quiet and withdrawn in to herself as she protected her sketchbook from errant droplets of seawater, it was almost hard to believe she’d attempted anything so risky as hijacking DiZ’s system.

“This is where he wanted to go,” he said.

She knew right away what he meant, nodding silently, “I know why DiZ didn’t let him go, but it was just so...sad.”

“Is that why you wanted to meet him?”

“Part of it, I suppose...I think I wanted to be a little selfish and see what it was like to be in a space bigger than a room,” she pushed at the sand beneath her feet, the feel of it in the water something different and exciting compared the coarse, dry shore, “Even if it wasn’t real.”

The particles rose like little clouds around her ankles, and she swirled them around by twisting back and forth slightly. Warm affection filled Riku at the sight of it; Kairi had done the same thing the first time he and Sora had taken her to the beach.

After awhile the night found them sitting on an islet, the one with the paopu tree that now filled Riku with a sense of longing whenever he looked at it. Naminé sat on its trunk lengthwise, her back against the part of the wood that curved up so she could bring her knees up. Her sketchbook leaned against her thighs as a make-shift work table. Even here she was still drawing.

“There was...more,” she said suddenly, her voice barely rising above the gentle night breeze, “About how I was trying to tell him? You know, who he really is.”

He shook his head, “It wouldn’t change anything—it wouldn’t change the fact that he has to return to Sora. Wouldn’t it be better for him if we could just return him quietly?”

“It would mean something, for me,” Naminé looked out at the sea, considering something, “Because I’m the one who took those memories from him in the first place.”

She shook her head, “It’s just like at Castle Oblivion. I haven’t changed at all. I’m still doing the same things.”

“If Roxas doesn’t go back, then Sora...”

“You know DiZ just wants him to wake up so he can use his Keyblade to defeat the Organization, right? It’s exactly what they did to Roxas.”

“Naminé, you’re not...wrong...but if you don’t—”

“I know, I know. He’s your best friend,” she sighed, flicking away some stray debris from the page, “And I made him a promise too. I just...wanted this time to be different, that’s all.”

She held her sketchbook by both edges, eyes downcast as she evaluated her work, “I guess that’s still just me being selfish.”

Riku fiddled with the two empty sea-salt sticks in his hand, the grains in the wood rubbing up against each other unpleasantly. The world around them was still as quiet and still as ever, save for the wind and the waves.

“It’s not selfish,” he said finally, “Or, if it is, then it isn’t any more selfish than anything I’ve done. For what it’s worth, I really do feel sorry for him...for Roxas.”

There was a ripping sound then, and Riku turned to see Naminé carefully tearing out the page she’d been drawing on. He smiled.

“Which memory did you draw this time?”

She just shook her head, a somewhat mischievous look about her as she reached over and handed him the page, which seemed to odd to him, given how she was usually so protective of these precious works of art.

“It’s a new memory,” she said, watching for his reaction.

Curled against the page’s corners was the paopu tree, framing a night sky peppered white with stars above a deep blue sea. Two figures sat close together, one blonde and small, the other donned in a black coat. Riku had to remind himself not to grip the paper too hard, so as not to crumple it—she’d drawn him as he used to be, in his original body.

“Naminé,” he hoped she’d never tire of hearing him say her name, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things you plug in to Google in the name of writing:
> 
> 1) 'Kingdom Hearts height chart'
> 
> 2) Average height of doors


	12. Waiting Isn't Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go for a walk.

Kairi held the piece of paper in front of her, a neat little schedule of all her classes for the new school year. Each class was tucked away in it’s own little box, next to a time and a teacher and a classroom, all planned out for her. She looked at this perfectly laid out road map of the whos, whens, and wheres of the next eight hours of her day and suddenly felt like she had no idea what she was doing with her life—because Life was funny like that.

“Oooh,” she was suddenly aware of a voice from somewhere near her left shoulder, “You have Mr. Seymour for seminar period. Talk about a tough break.”

Managing to look only slightly startled, she turned to address Selphie, who was floating by her side with the air of someone who wore their sphere of personal space like a light shawl—small, loose, and very optional.

“Yeah, well...at least I’m not Tidus. He got Mr. Jecht.”

Selphie tilted her head to one side, “He has seminar with his dad? That’s not the end of the world.”

“Tidus thinks so,” Kairi glanced at her schedule again, her face pensive.

“...Are you okay?”

She was aware of the flow of students around them, streams of people passing by like everything was normal.

“I don’t know, I guess it just...still feels like yesterday the island was getting ripped apart and now...we’re all continuing on like it never happened.”

Selphie’s curls bounced, her tone ever optimistic and bright, “Well it _has_ been a couple months now. Life goes on, you know?”

This did not have the desired effect of unknitting Kairi’s brows, and the curls sank a bit as she tried again, “Hey, I mean, it’s not like we’re not all still freaking out a little over it—but we made it, somehow! We’re alive! Wouldn’t you rather try and move on and make the best of things instead of moping around?”

Kairi actually gave a small _hmpf_ and smiled a little, “Yeah, it makes sense that people just want things to go back to the way they were before.”

The one-minute warning bell chimed and Selphie gave her arm a little encouraging squeeze before turning to leave.

“Let’s go to the play islands after school!” she called out, waving goodbye as she left, “I’m sure that’ll help cheer you up!”

Kairi waved back, but otherwise offered no reply. Her chest tightened at the mention of the play islands, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Selphie disappeared in to the throng of students, which were starting to thin out as people found their first periods. It wasn’t until the bell rang again that she realized she still hadn’t moved, and the silence of her singularity echoed in the long, empty space of the hall. The whole world had seemed to move on.

She finally turned and started walking.

And kept walking.

Right through the front door.

-

The question came suddenly, out of nowhere, and (most surprisingly) from herself.

“What am I doing?”

She was standing in front of the docks, the ocean coming in to focus, her head swimming in a fog of swirling reverie. She vaguely recalled talking to Selphie, but the walk over was a blur of dirt roads and soft, blue skies. She tried to think of at least one _solid_ memory, and found herself looking even beyond that morning in the hall, digging in to past yesterdays, weeks, and (she was realizing with growing apprehension, fuzzy) months.

“ _What am I doing?_ ” she said again, this time with a real sense of urgency, the ‘ _Answer me, dammit,’_ implicit in the force of breath that expelled the statement out of her.

Below the wooden planks of the pier were the gently bobbing rowboats. She could hear the cry of seagulls somewhere in the distance. If she concentrated hard enough, she could even make out the small speck of the play islands floating on the horizon.

She turned around and started walking in the opposite direction. It was like trying to walk with lead blocks tied to her legs. Her movements felt so sluggish and automatic, like her body was trying to do its best in the wake of its absent-minded pilot. She could literally see the world passing her by—she was on a treadmill, the ground rolling under her feet as buildings, trees, people with concerned faces scrolled past, everything one seamless backdrop that flew by as she remained a fixed point in space and time that went absolutely nowhere.

It was somewhere between her dad’s office (which she thought about stopping at, but ultimately skipped) and the bakery (because hell, she was already skipping school, why not treat herself to something sweet) that she found the answer to her question: she was looking for something, anything to be wrong.

All the houses looked just as they had before the storm, all the roads, the signs, even that stupid dent in her yard fence where she had accidentally jammed her knee trying to hop over it to see...to see...um…

Kairi shook her head, her thoughts starting to glaze over again as she chased after lucidity. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was _missing_. Why would she feel this adrift and lost if that wasn’t the case? Going to school should’ve felt normal, walking down the street, all of it was here, except...

Kairi blinked back in to reality, just in time to see where her feet had led her this time.

She was standing in front of a familiar house, blue trim on the wooden paneling, two stories tall; it was a place that, up until recently, she’d visited almost every single day. A flash of understanding gripped her, and she found herself moving with the most clarity and intention she’d had all day, running up the steps and knocking on the door. She was rewarded with the sound of approaching footsteps from inside—they sounded heavy, quick tempo-ed, and a sense of foreboding came over her as she heard the frantic scrabbling of metal and wood before the lock was undone and the door was thrown open.

Kairi locked eyes with the woman on the other side, both of them caught mid-gasp, and for a moment they shared the painful disappointment that neither of them had seen who they had hoped to see on the other side of that door.

“Kairi dear,” the woman seemed to be choking as she held back her distress, “I wasn’t expecting—”

“Is—Is Riku home?” Kairi blurted out, afraid that she already knew the answer, “He wasn’t at school today...”

Riku’s mother’s eyes went wide, lashes catching at forming tears as she blinked.

“O-oh, he’s...” she paused, the heaviness of it swelling against Kairi like the calm before a storm, “...why don’t you come in. It’s been awhile.”

-

Kairi sipped her tea, quietly. She remembered Riku’s mother being a vibrant and outspoken woman, and that still seemed true enough, but her energy seemed more nervous, less focused, somehow. She always had something in her hands, a wash cloth, a butter knife, a pan, always busied herself by moving about the kitchen, finding all matter of small, insignificant things to do. If Kairi thought it about it, she might have noticed how she never seemed to see the bottom of her cup.

“Some days I feel like I’m losing my mind,” she said during one of her visits, “I try to remember all the time we spent together, but then it feels like…like I’m remembering it wrong,”

‘ _Like I’m forgetting something,’_ she wanted to say,

“and then I start to question if any of it was real in the first place.”

“No, he was definitely real,” Riku’s mother stood at the sink, scrubbing at the teapot her neighbor and closest friend—who, as far as she knew, had no children of her own (why did she feel the need to remind herself of that?)—had given her two days ago.

She passed the sponge over a spot on the flowery decal that was already starting to fade.

“I know!” Kairi said quickly, as if suddenly realizing what she had said, “I just feel like—”

There was a warm hand over hers, and Kairi looked up in to the face of the woman before her. Her smile was held together with the kindness of a woman who believed that at the end of it all, people needed other people. There were gray patches under her eyes.

“I know. I know.”

-

No one seemed to be home today.

“That’s odd,” Kairi said, when her knocking went unanswered.

Riku’s mother should’ve known she was coming over—she came around this time nearly every day now—so it was out of place for her to be away. Kairi glanced up at the second floor windows and saw the faint light of a reading lamp. She frowned.

The crash of breaking glass made her jump and almost fall off the front landing.

She regained her balance and looked over to the neighboring house, which was sporting a broken top-floor window and a questionable amount of glass littered around the garden out front. Curious, Kairi cautiously made her way next door.

The garden was in sore need of tending, she noted first. The soil looked dry, and what plant life remained was withering its way to dust. She carefully picked her way to the would-be scene of the crime, stooping down to pick up what looked to be…a hand carved wooden mask?

A pang of familiarity stabbed through her.

Another crash from above quickly replaced the sharp nostalgia with sharp panic. She could just hear the sounds of scuffling and uneasy arguing overhead as she scurried over to the front door porch. From there she could see what had been thrown out this time: a string mobile, stars, moons, and other baubles tangled up in a sad mess. These were followed by more indistinct arguing and an assortment of other things getting tossed outside; a beach pail, a model boat, various shirts and other clothes.

She was not prepared for the fishing spear.

“Hey!” she cupped a hand against her mouth, “What’s going on up there?!”

A head popped out amid the shards still stuck to the window frame. Riku’s mother looked exasperated and tired, more so than usual.

“Kairi?!” she turned back in to the house before shouting, “See, this is why I told you to wait!”

She disappeared inside and after an awkward minute of rubbing the back of her calf with the flat of her shoe, hoping the rain of miscellaneous objects wouldn’t resume, the front door opened.

Riku’s mom ushered her in, “You’d better come inside dear.”

-

Being in the neighbor's house made her feel like she was slightly outside of herself; like she had a mode of autopilot that someone else had installed. She found herself starting to turn corners without waiting to see where Riku’s mother was leading her.

They paused on the upstairs landing, suddenly quiet. Kairi nervously fiddled with the wooden mask still in her hands.

“She’s not usually like this. I think she...well. After everything came back, she just wasn’t quite the same.”

Riku’s mother went up to the first door and cautiously opened it, “Dearie, it’s Kairi. You remember her? Riku’s friend?”

There was a slight chill as they stepped inside. The breeze from the broken window ruffled various loose items strewn about the room. In the middle of it was a woman who looked about as old as Riku’s mom, sitting on the floor. She seemed held together by after thoughts; the bun on her head was a bundle of loose straws of hair; her limbs were spread out like dead weights; one shoulder was beginning to peek out from a slipping sleeve. Her hand idly rubbed at an eye. She looked tired.

“I just don’t want to look at it anymore.”

Riku’s mother bent down and placed a hand on her friend’s arm, “When I said you should put it all away, I meant…you know, slowly. In an organized fashion.”

The neighbor just looked out at the far wall, “Why do we even have this room?”

Riku’s mom’s eyes seemed to glass over, like she was doing mental gymnastics around inconsistencies in her own memory

“If it makes you this unhappy, you should get rid of it. But!” she interjected quickly, “With help. And boxes. Lots of boxes.”

Kairi’s hands gripped the mask at the thought of everything in the room being packed away.

“Surely,” she said, not quite sure herself why the notion of stripping the room bare made her feel uneasy, “there’s a reason you’ve kept it all. Even after all this time.”

The neighbor looked up at her, eyes suddenly going wide, “Do I know you?”

Kairi bent down and offered the mask, uncertain how to answer her.

“You’re that girl...”

Riku’s mother reached for the mask, “Yes, I told you—”

The woman batted the hand away, clutching the mask with both fists.

“We made this. My husband and I, and...” she trailed off.

Riku’s mother sighed, rubbing the growing crow’s feet around her eyes, “Right, and just where is your darling dearest anyway?”

The neighbor shook her head, staring at the mask. An irrelevant question.

“Maybe,” Kairi spoke softly, “You don’t need to put it all away. If looking at everything makes you sad, then just lock the room up. Forget about it until you’re ready to deal with it.”

Riku’s mother clapped her hands, “That’s a wonderful idea! Why don’t Kairi and I go ahead and fix this window for you, while you go get some rest.”

Kairi quietly admired the woman’s ability to begin a sentence with ‘why’ and yet punctuate it with a period. Slowly, the mask was lowered to the floor.

“Alright.”

-

“Fixing” the window ended up being just Riku’s mother taking the blanket, tying it to the curtain rods, and then pushing the bed up against the bottom half to keep it from blowing everywhere.

“We’ll come back later and do it properly,” she said, giving Kairi a wink.

Then there were a few trips to collect the surviving items from outside, and still a couple more to gather up all the bits of glass. One by one, they put everything back.

Not once did Kairi ask where anything should go.

It was at the end when they were folding clothes that Kairi suddenly got up and threw the t-shirt in her hand on to the floor.

“As a mother, I can’t quite say I approve,” Riku’s mother remarked as she watched Kairi push the rest of the clothes off the bed, “But...it does seem right. Somehow...”

“There. Perfect,” she said, looking around her.

Everything was here. Everything...right?

She looked at the desk, the posters on the ceiling ( _‘what a funny place to put those’,_ she chuckled), the various nick-knacks that held too much personality to be an accident. What sort of person had this room been made for?

Kairi felt a hand on her elbow.

“Don’t think about it too much, dear.”

She shook her head, “It just seems wrong to lock it all away...”

A wet drop splashing against her folded hands made her jump a bit.

“Sorry,” she swiped at the tears in her eyes, “I don’t know why it matters so much to me.”

“It’s better than packing it away, I think. It’s all still here and waiting for...” Riku’s mother seemed to struggle for a moment with her words, “Well, it’s just going to have to be good enough.”

Kairi let those words settle inside her as she took one final look around at a room about to be locked away for, perhaps, forever. She thought about dust collecting on the furniture, the air growing stale, the shape of the emptiness in the room waiting, waiting, waiting to be filled.

“Waiting isn’t good enough,” she said.

And she meant it.


End file.
